“Is your leg hurting?” Erin asked with concern.
Liam’s leg was left mangled on his last tour in Afghanistan. He never wore
shorts, always jeans – even in the high heat of summer like this hot, July day.
She’d given him several massages, so she’d seen the damage. His leg was badly
scarred from his injuries and burns. He’d almost lost the leg, but didn’t,
though he’d had a very long recovery which was amplified by multiple surgeries.
He still limped a little, and probably always would. He’d told her it was a
small price to pay for keeping his leg.

“I had therapy this morning. It’s always sore
afterward. It was my last session. I return to the doctor next week. I should
get the go ahead to drive again.”

“That’s good. More independence for you.” She
gave him a genuine smile. She knew how much he was looking forward to driving
again.

“Yeah.” He nodded and smiled.

“Italian sub for the big guy and chicken salad
for the lady.” Connor slid the tray onto the table.

“Thanks.” Erin smiled.

“Anytime, sweetie.” Connor headed back toward
the counter when a mother and three kids walked in.

“Erin?”

“Yes.” She returned her attention to Liam.
Harper was right. The man was gorgeous. Short, black hair that was forever
tousled, intense blue eyes, tall, muscled and lean - the finest body she’d ever
seen. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to remember what that hard body felt
like against hers while he was kissing her, but she couldn’t help it. She did.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Liam was also direct. Erin chewed then
swallowed the bite she’d just taken.

“I’m not-”

“You are,” he cut her off.

At first, she suspected this was it. They’d
have an argument, his pride was wounded, his feelings hurt, and the result
would be they would probably never speak to one another again - but to her
surprise, it wasn’t anger she saw when she looked into those brilliant eyes.
Was it tenderness? He continued to watch her. And yes, she felt guilty because
she had been avoiding him.

“I’m sorry. I told you I don’t have good
relationships, and that I didn’t want to do this.”

“Do what?

“This. Um, I’m not ready for a relationship.”

“Why aren’t you ready for a relationship?”

“Well, because my relationships don’t ever
work.”

“How do you know this one, ours, won’t?”

Well he had her there. “I don’t. But I don’t
want to hurt you, Liam. What we are doing right now as a team is too important.
And like I told you, I don’t know how.”

“No one knows how. They just give it a try and
see where it goes.”

“I must not be good at it, because I always
mess things up.”

“Says who?”

“Says me and my last five boyfriends.”

“Hmm. They told you it was your fault it didn’t
work?”

Erin sighed in frustration. “Do we have to talk
about this?”

“Yes. We do.”

“Liam, it’s just…It’s just not a good time to
try this. We need to be focused. I
need to stay focused and I couldn’t if we, well, I need to keep my mind on this
defeat the demon thing.” She looked at her watch. “And I have a client due-”

Liam spoke occasionally, just filling her in on
some of their preparations. She would answer or comment.

After they finished, he walked her back toward
White Magic. He stopped, reached out, and took her gently by the arm. “I need
you to answer one question for me.”

“Okay, if I can.”

“You can. It’s not hard. My question is this:
do you want to have a good, happy, healthy relationship? One that sticks.”

She rubbed her brow. “Of course. Doesn’t
everyone?”

“It’s not that you’re not attracted to me, is
it? Or you want a relationship, but just not with me.”

“No, Liam. It’s not that at all. You’re a
wonderful man and I am attracted to you. It’s not you, it’s me.”

“Okay.” He shrugged and released her arm.

“It’s not you,” she whispered.

“All right. Let’s give it a try, you and me.
We’ll take it slow.” He reached down, took her hand, and brought it to his
lips. He stepped closer to her. She vaguely registered her back touching the
wall. After his lips grazed over her knuckles, he turned her hand over and
pressed a slow, warm, lingering kiss to her palm. Heat shot up her arm and she
tingled all over. She saw tenderness and caring in the depths of his intense,
blue eyes.

“Good.” He gave her a sexy smile as he studied
her face. “We’ll take it slow.”

He released her hand, turned, and proceeded to
walk toward the shop door.

Erin had to peel herself off the wall before
her legs gave out and she slid down to the concrete. Her legs felt like jelly
as she followed him. Of course, her eyes focused on the back of his jeans. She
shouldn’t look there, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She had to admit he
was gorgeous everywhere. The man did
have great buns. She’d noticed that the first day he walked into the shop with
the two other Decker brothers.

She didn’t remember actually telling Liam she
would try a relationship with him, did she? Maybe she did. At the moment, she
couldn’t think of one reason not to try. Still dazed, she muttered her thanks
to him for holding the door open for her.

On the way to the massage room, she turned to
look at him. He gave her a very sexy smile that did things to her. Wicked
things. And it didn’t help her clear her head at all. Not one bit. She realized
she was smiling when she turned toward her massage room.

Fin turned to her. She held her head high and
,et his gaze. He guessed it was determination he saw in those golden eyes.

“We’re headed for one of my safe places. We
can’t reach it by nightfall. We’ll have to stay the night at another MacEwen
property,” Jamie informed him in a cool tone as she passed by him. She mounted
her horse on her own and turned her head. “Are you coming, Lord Dunloy?”

“Aye.” It took him aback that she was now using
his title instead of his given name.

Jamie didn’t wait, she urged that big beast of
a devil she rode forward. Fin briskly walked toward his gelding.

“Then you’d best mount up in a hurry. We’ve a
long journey ahead of us and I hope you’re not intending to lag behind the
entire way.”

Fin let go a huff of irritation and mounted his
horse. He paused to wave farewell to his friends then hurried after her. He
heard deep baritone laughter behind him as he struggled to catch up to her. Damn Jamie MacEwen. She is the most infuriating woman. She had
no right to treat him thus. It was she who’d lied to him all these years, after
all.

He tried to tamp down his anger and forget
about her. He failed. The anger simmered during the long, silent hours they
rode toward God only knew where.

Darkness was nearly upon them when they passed
by a small, quiet village just off the road.

“Mayhap we should take a room at the inn there,
in the village,” Fin suggested. He was feeling quite weary of a sudden.

“Out of the question. We’ve not far to go.
Another mile or so.”

“And where exactly are we going, lass?” Will
there be a bed waiting for me?”

“Of course. ‘Tis a cottage.”

“Good.” That was heartening news. His stomach
rumbled. “And will there be food at this cottage?”

“Aye, of course.” She muttered.

He was tired. Bone weary tired, which was
unlike him. Then again, he hadn’t sat in a saddle for almost a full day without
a rest in some time, and to be fair, he was still healing from the wounds he
received several weeks ago. He was reminded he had a new one just this day when
his arm began to throb. He’d never let her know he was struggling to keep up.
Not on his life!

It was a small cottage she pointed out as they
left the road and made their way down a path. It looked to be in good condition,
and that was promising. He couldn’t help but notice how spry Jamie was as she
slid from her mount. She walked to the door, turned her key in the lock, pushed
the door open and returned to her horse. “There’s a lean to in the back. I’ll
take the horses.”

He stifled a groan as he dismounted. His arse
was mighty sore. And why did his legs feel so damned weak. “I’ll bring my
horse. It will make faster work of it if we each take care of our own mounts.”

She gave him a nod and led the way behind the
cottage.

It wasn’t until he had trouble lifting the
saddle from the handsome black gelding he borrowed from Arran, and his arm felt
like it was on fire that he realized there was something wrong. He dropped the
saddle. Groaned and straightened.

And there was Jamie. She raised her hand to his
brow. “You’ve a fever, Fin. Go in and sit. I’ll see to the horses. I’ll be in
as quickly as I can to see to your wound.”

The man in him wanted to protest, but the part
of him that felt so blasted weak and sick complied with a nod. He trudged
around the small, compact structure and took himself into the house. He thought
to sit in a chair at the table, but the bed in the anteroom beyond beckoned.
The mattress looked fluffy. It was a MacEwen plaid that was thrown across it.
He lay his head down upon one of the plump pillows and closed his eyes.

When he next opened them, there was a soft
golden glow in the room. He saw a fire gleaming in the hearth in the large room
beyond. Something smelled divine. A lamp on the table beside his bed had been
lit.

Then Lady Jamesina entered, minus her hat. Her
long, dark braid trailed over her shoulder. She was carrying a basin. He
watched as she set it atop a table stacked with folded cloths on the other side
of the bed.

“Good, you’re awake.” She drew the plaid away
from him.

It was then he realized his chest was bare. The
woman had undressed him while he slept? How could that be? He tried to lift
himself up and couldn’t.

“Your wound has festered, Fin. It’s where the
fever comes from. I cleaned it earlier and applied a poultice. Now I need to
apply another.”

He grunted and gave her a nod. “What smells so
good?” He scraped his hand over his face.

“A Stew. I made it yesterday, and left it in
the cellar so we would have it if we needed it.”

“We need to compare the clues?” His eyes
narrowed after he surveyed the room. “What have you done with my coat?”

“Damn it, Fin. I hung your coat on a peg in the
other room to dry. I know you’re angry with me but I can’t believe you don’t
trust me.”

“Well you’re certainly not the person I thought
you were. You could have been lying about everything, how am I to know.”

“I never purposely lied to you. I just never
revealed to you that I was a woman. Everything else I wrote in my letters was
the truth. How I felt, what I believed. If you read them, you should know
exactly who I am.”

Her words stung almost as much as the cleaning
of the gash on his upper arm. “Ouch!”

She rose and walked to a cabinet. She returned
with a bottle of whisky and a glass. She set them down, and poured him a
generous amount and offered it to him.

“If you’re going to whine like a bairn, Fin,
you need to drink this.”

“I’m not whining. I was complaining about the
sharpness of your tongue as much as roughness of your ministrations.”

“Drink it or do without. I’m changing your
poultice regardless.” She held the glass out to him again.

He struggled to sit up, but managed to do so
without her assistance. He snatched the glass from her hand and drained it,
then settled back down into the soft warmth of the bed.

“There. I’ve had my medicine. Do your worst.”

“Hmmph.” Jamie continued to clean the remnants
of the old poultice off. She sponged the festering gash and then applied the
new poultice.

“Fin?” she called when she finished.

“Aye?” Fin struggled to open his eyes.

“Could you eat a bit of stew? You need to keep
up your strength.”

“Aye, I can. And could I have another wee dram,
lass? For Scottish whisky, it tasted fairly good.”

“Aye. I’ll get it, and I’ll have you know ‘tis
the best whisky to be had in Argyll.”

“MacEwen made, I suppose,” he mumbled.

“Of course.” She quirked a dark brow his way.

The venison stew was the best thing he’d ever
tasted. It was humiliating that she’d had to help him sit up to eat it. That
stung his pride. She made him drink a hot cup of rather bitter tea before she’d
pour him a whisky.

“It’s not meant to taste good. It was made to
fight your infection and help you to heal.” And put him to sleep and out of his
misery and hers, God willing.

He insisted on another dram, she argued but
eventually gave in after muttering something about if he had more whisky in him
mayhap he’d go to sleep and quit complaining. She helped him lay down and
pulled the plaid over him. Then he felt her hand, he’d noticed earlier that she
had long-fingered, pretty hands, upon his brow. He could hear the soft lull of
her voice as he slid into slumber.

Saturday, May 28, 2016

I am still working on revising and editing Sinners Take All (working title was A Bachelor No More) Book 1 of the new Quest for the Shroud Series. In the meantime, I'd like to post the teaser for Book 2 which will be titled Secrets, Lies and Sins﻿.

You might remember Oliver Talbot, the Marquess of Braxton, from the Lords of Avalon Series. This is what happens when he runs into Caitriona Kinross, whom he hasn't seen in three years, Hope you enjoy!

Excerpt
from

Secrets,
Lies and Sins

Book 2
of the Quest for the Shroud Series

By K. R.
Richards

Oliver
Talbot, the Marquess of Braxton, remained out of sight on the shady side of the
garden shed. If luck was with him this day, he’d catch his prey and if it
wasn’t, he’d return to Castle Draoie angrier and more frustrated than he was
already. Bloody, damned Scotland. He never should have come.

He
sensed her presence before he could see her on the path. It was odd that he
could still feel her nearness after
three, long years, but he did.

He
waited. One glimpse of that fiery auburn hair as she passed by him was enough
proof. He lunged for her.

He took
a step back when he saw the glint of her dagger as she whirled around to face
him.

He
flashed a wicked grin. “Hello, Cait. It’s been a long time.”

It
seemed an eternity passed while he waited for her to speak. He had clearly
surprised her. He found that unusual because she had been one of the best
agents at the Department, once upon a time. And he had sensed her. The surprise in those green eyes
vanished. That dangerous glint he knew so well now burned in those forest green
eyes.

“It
seems you’re a bit rusty, Red.”

“Maybe.
You are fortunate that my knife is not rusty. It will make removing your
ballocks that much easier.”

“Come
now. I did nothing to warrant such punishment. I will remind you, it was you, Cait, who left me without a word
while I was on a mission. You ran back to Scotland to get married without
leaving a note or explanation. If anyone has the right to carve someone up, it
would be me.”

“What do
you want?”

“What I
deserved three years ago. An explanation.” The usual brilliant blue of his eyes
darkened to the intensity of a stormy sky.

“From
what I’ve heard from London, you certainly didn’t pine away for me.”

“I must
indeed be a legend if tales of my sexual exploits have made it all the way to
Scotland,” his words dripped with sarcasm.

“I would
use a word other than legend.” Cait took several steps back though she still
held her dagger at the ready.

“I’ve
learned a great deal about pleasure in these three years. I imagine I could
teach you a thing or two. Perhaps you’d like to have a go?” He taunted her.

She
tossed her head. “I’d rather slit my own throat.”

This
conversation wasn’t going the way he planned. At all. Frustrated, he held out
his hand. “Give me the damn dagger.”

“No.”

He shook
his head and brought his fingers up to rub his aching temple. “Damn it, Cait!
I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk. Put the knife away.”

She
seemed unsure. Her hand trembled slightly, but it did tremble. Oliver took
advantage of her weakness in that moment and grabbed her wrist. He pried the
dagger from her fingers with his other hand. He slid her weapon into his
pocket.

“Leave
me alone. I have my own life now. I’ll not have you pestering me.”

“Pestering?”
He forced himself to control his rising anger.

“Madame,
the only thing I want is what you owe me. An
explanation.”

“You
don’t deserve one.” She turned and continued on the path.

“Yes. I.
Do.” He reached out and took hold of her upper arm. “I did nothing to you. When
I left London, we were lovers, when I returned from Vienna you were married to
an old man in Scotland. I just want to know why. Why did I not even warrant an
explanation? A letter? Something.”

She
tried to break away. She kicked him in the thigh, though she had been aiming
higher. He held fast. With a vice grip on both of her arms, he pulled her
against him.

She
kicked and scratched at him. They continued to struggle. She was still very
strong but she was out of practice, and no doubt did not condition her body on
a daily basis as she had before. He did, and was stronger. Finally, he pinned
her arms at her sides. With a sweep of one long, muscled leg, he brought it
behind one of hers and unbalanced her. They fell to the ground in a wrestling
heap. He tried to keep her there. She tried to break free.

Finally,
he was on top of her, pinning her beneath him.

“Why?”
He demanded.

She shook her head. “My reasons are my own.”

Their
heated gazes locked. Each of them struggled for breath.

She
wasn’t as lean as he remembered. Oh, she was still tall and slender, but she
was curvier, and softer - in all the right places.

And damn
it all, he was aroused. He bit back a curse as he realized after all these years
he still wanted her. The woman who
had brought him to his knees.

She must
have noticed. There was a flash of panic in those green eyes. “Let me go!”

Cait
inhaled sharply when she saw the flicker of pain in the brilliant blue of his
eyes. She never guessed she hurt him. Perhaps she was imagining it. Surely,
that had to be it. There had never been any talk of feelings, emotion, or
permanency.

She
shook her head. “I can’t.” She wouldn’t. Couldn’t now. There was too much at
stake.

He
watched her eyes grow misty. All the emotion he used to carry around for her in
his heart reappeared. Ah, hell, he’d spent years trying to purge her from his
soul. Whatever made him think he could? Now here he was, feeling things he
didn’t want to feel. And wanting.

“Damn
you, Cait!” He should let her go. Walk away. Forget her for good. He did think
about it for a few seconds. He did try.

Friday, January 22, 2016

Here is a new excerpt from upcoming Book 1 of the Quest for the Shroud series, A Bachelor No More.

In this scene, Avalon Society Member and known rake, Lucien Saintmaur, aka Wyldhurst, deals with the prudish Miss Hazel Grimm.

“Are you quite certain we
cannot make it?” Hazel asked again.

“Miss Grimm. We are in the
midst of a torrential rain. The roads are nearly impassable at present and will
only get worse. True, we are not far from Gryffestone, but had we continued
onward, we might have well spent the rest of the night inside the carriage when
the wheels became mired in the mud. We would be stuck and in a very precarious
position if your attackers came upon us. This inn is our safest option,” Luc
took her hand and helped her from the carriage. Actually, it was more like a
quick jerk of the hand that led to the dragging of the irritating lady behind
him. He quickly situated them inside the dry entry of the Badger Inn.

After requesting the largest
set of rooms available, which unfortunately turned out to be only one room with
a small parlour, he followed Miss Grimm up the narrow steps.

Maids scurried about the room
before leaving them to their privacy. The food he had requested was laid out
upon the table. A warm fire blazed in the hearth.

When he threw the bolt to bar
the door, Miss Grimm nearly jumped from the chair she had taken near the fire.

Her grey-blue eyes grew wide
with fear as she watched him. He was convinced the woman would jump at the
sight of her own shadow.

He sighed heavily. “Once
again, Miss Grimm, I assure you, you are safe from me. I bolted the door to
protect us, to keep harm out and for absolutely no other reason.”

What was it Damien had told
him? Oh, yes. She was jittery around men. There was no doubt, she was. There
must be a legitimate reason men frightened her. He decided that was none of his
concern. Tomorrow morning he would deliver her to the Earl of Kinross who
awaited her at Gryffestone, and be done with her.

“Yes, of course,” she
expelled a relieved sigh. Her eyes darted around the room. Beyond an open door,
she could make out one bed in the room. “There is only one bed?” Hazel
regretted that her voice came out resembling a high-pitched squeak.

“You will sleep in the bed,
Miss Grimm. I’ll keep watch here, in this chair,” Luc said as he plopped down
in the only comfortable chair in the room. It wasn’t large enough for his tall,
muscular frame, but it would have to do. He shrugged. At least the woman was
talking now. She had remained silent for the last hour in the carriage after he
admonished her for complaining non-stop.

“Eat,” he waved toward the
cold collation on the table. He continued, “And get to bed. Hopefully the rain
will cease and we can get an early start to Gryffestone on the morrow, eh?” A
smile turned up the corners of his mouth when he noted the whiskey on the table
beside him. He poured himself an ample dose of the dark, amber liquid. Whiskey,
it was the very best thing about being in Scotland.

“You are imbibing in spirits?”

Again, she gave him that
wild-eyed look then those same eyes narrowed into a stony, gray glare.

“Yes. I am indeed. It is a
fine whiskey. Would you care for a dram, Miss Grimm? It will warm your bones.”
He seriously doubted it would do much to loosen up a disagreeable spinster like
her, though.

“I wish you would not drink.
Men lose their wits when they drink strong spirits,” she informed him in a
derogatory tone.

Her tongue was bitter, true,
but there was that haunted, fearful look in her eyes again. Yes, yes, whiskey
made men lose their wits and breasts made them sin. She had lists of sins and
he had heard them all since he first laid eyes on her earlier that morning. Little
wonder Miss Grimm was a spinster, and shoved as far back on the shelf as a
woman could get. He smiled at his own witty jest. What Miss Grimm needed was
several shots of whiskey and a good, hard…tumble. The corner of his mouth
lifted.

Hazel wondered why he smiled.
He seemed amused. He had already demonstrated that he could be trusted. He
saved her life after all. She would not have survived the assault he spared her
from this day. Why then did she fear him? Was it those black slashing brows or
his unreadable green eyes. Perhaps it was the sheer size of him. The man was
tall with the broadest shoulders she had ever seen. His arms and legs were muscled;
in fact, the man was nothing but muscle. She didn’t understand it. She felt
uneasy and on guard around him every moment.

She was still glaring at him.
He grimaced. He was certainly not the man to give that woman a tumble. Although
that riot of bright red hair fanned out upon a pillow might be a sight to see,
he was not willing to go far enough to find out, thank you very much.

“Fine. I won’t drink,” Luc
growled in irritation as he slammed the crystal glass upon the table. Yes, a day
of Hazel Grimm’s company was more than enough. He rose and walked to the table.
He perused the cold platter that had been left for them. He picked up a hunk of
bread and took a bite. It was tasty, fresh even. With one physical need
completely ruled out for the evening, for he would not be going there with her, he turned to fulfilling another.
The food was fresh and flavored well despite it being cold.

“You will come eat,” it was a
polite command.

“I don’t think I could,”
Hazel shook her head. Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Yes, that
was it. He made her nervous. He watched her too closely. That was why she was
uneasy in his company.

Did she frown all of the
time? “Suit yourself,” he shrugged and threw a grape into the air, catching it
with his open mouth. Quite amused by her snort of displeasure, he sat and
entertained himself with some more tidbits upon the platter. A piece of beef, a
nip of cheese. His entertaining game lasted all of five minutes, until he
realized she was still staring at him wide-eyed. It unnerved him to the point
he decided to do something about it.

“Miss Grimm, would you mind
not staring at me? If you continue, I shall be forced to believe that you find
me devilishly handsome and wish to be seduced this eve. Do you want to be
seduced? Do you wish to let me have my way with you?” He pretended to begin to
rise from the bench.

“Sorry, I – I,” she stammered
as she hastily rose. “No! I will retire,” her voice was a desperate whisper,
her cheeks flamed bright red, not far from the color of that glorious hair.

“Do not bolt the bedchamber
door, Miss Grimm,” he barked. He smiled inwardly. He could be just as
disagreeable to her as she had been to him the entire day.

“Why not?” She whipped around
to face him.

He noted a flash of defiance
in her eyes. Hmm? Interesting. He explained calmly, “If someone came in through
your window, I could not prevent them from taking you.”

“Oh. I see.” Another blush “I
will not bolt it then.”

“Suit yourself.”

He watched as she picked up
both her bags and entered the bedchamber. She closed the door. He did not hear
the bolt slide.

Hazel admonished herself.
When he mentioned seduction, why had she felt…pleased? She never wanted to,
well, she just could not. The sins of her past could not be erased. She could
not think of marriage or that. Ever.

Why after all these years did
she feel disappointed? She shook her head. She was being a complete ninny. It
was the first time she had ever spent so much time in the company of a man not
of her relation. And he was rather handsome. That must be why she was uneasy, timid,
and felt quite out of place. Or what was she felt temptation? The kind that
would lead her to sin. No! She would overcome such feelings and prevail.

With a sigh of relief and a
grin, Luc returned to the chair and his whiskey. He downed what remained in his
glass then poured himself another. He lifted it toward the closed door and
whispered, “Thank goodness there are warm, talkative, and willing women in the
world who appreciate men, for Miss Hazel Grimm is certainly not one of them.” Pleased
with himself, he let go a boisterous laugh.

It was too bad that Miss
Grimm was such a sourpuss. Her fiery hair could indeed tempt a man. Those plump
breasts, what little evidence he saw of them earlier, and when not flattened by
that ridiculous binding she insisted upon wearing, could definitely fill a
man’s hand. He found her gray eyes quite interesting when she wasn’t glaring at
him, or when they grew wide with fear. He wondered for a moment, and only a
moment, what desire would do to the silvery blue of her large eyes.

He sighed. Hazel Grimm was
the worst kind of spinster, for she truly hated men. So he would think on her
no more. It would be a complete waste of his time.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

These are both new characters, that were never introduced in the Lords of Avalon series. However, they a re both very important to the Quest for the Shroud series.

Kilrea Castle, Ballymena, County Antrim,
Ireland, Early in May 1835

It had been three years since he had buried his
brother, William. Finlay was never meant to be the Earl of Dunloy, but had been
since William met his end. He’d done a damned fine job of it too, if he didn’t
say so himself. He’d improved the Castle, overseen the modernization his father,
Patrick, had oft spoken of doing. The MacDonnell people in this part of County
Antrim now thrived. The farming, the livestock, all had been improved upon. His
father would be proud of what Fin had accomplished in a short three years. He
knew it. He’d done a better job than William, he knew that too. For his brother
hadn’t the drive or the ambition to change anything. Most importantly, William had
preferred his drink, whores, and gambling over any estate business.

William had never taken the ancient Oath of the
MacDonnell as seriously as Fin and his father had either. It was the fault of William’s
obvious weaknesses that Fin was now preparing to leave Kilrea for God only knew
how long. He hoped like hell it was not forever!

And it was William’s fault too, that across the
North Channel, Jamie MacEwen was in danger also. Fin and Jamie, had become good
friends in the five years they’d corresponded since Patrick MacDonnell had
passed. They were of an age, and spoke of many things other than their inherited
tasks in their letters. Though he’d never set eyes on the man, as yet, Fin
thought of Jamie as a good friend. They had many shared interests. Fin had sent
a letter off to Jamie first thing upon discovering that someone, probably more
than one someone, knew about the MacDonnell/MacEwen secret and was asking
questions. Questions they should not have known enough to ask.

It wasn’t that William MacDonnell’s love of the
ladies had caused this predicament precisely, rather that he’d blabbed about
the Oath and the MacDonnell secrets, a boast of sorts, to at least one lass
while either in his cups, or in the heat of passion. Hell, it was probably
both.

It was when William’s last known paramour, a particular
Scottish beauty, who visited family in Antrim and had spent time with his
brother when in Ireland, called upon Fin at Kilrea almost one week ago and
started asking about the MacDonnell secrets that Fin realized how careless
William had been. He wondered now if William’s death might have been more than
the accident it had seemed to be. Sure, a highly inebriated man could fall from
his horse, hit his head upon a rock and die, but Fin guessed the Scottish
beauty was dangerous. He knew, for certain, that she was after the secrets
secured and safely hidden by the MacDonnells for centuries, and more than
likely those of the MacEwens at Dunrostan. She might have had a hand in
William’s death as well.

She had tried her best to seduce Fin that day,
but he was known to be a much more clever man than his brother was, and he was certainly
smarter than a woman with manipulation in the way of seduction on her mind.
Without arousing her suspicions, he’d escaped her greedy clutches that
afternoon by claiming he was quite busy preparing to leave for a business trip
to the Continent in a few days.

Finding out that he would be gone from Ireland
a month entire, she promised she would return to Antrim then. He said he’d send
word when he arrived home and that she should come immediately upon receipt of
his missive. Oh, Fin could talk a good game, and rake was a part he played well.
He did. Sure, he’d practically mastered being a rake before he took up the
title of Earl. He was well schooled in the seduction of women. He’d pressed a
few strategically placed, soft, warm kisses upon her person, let his fingers
wander about her bodice a bit, and whispered a few sweet lies into her ear that
hinted of the sensual delights that would await her upon her return to Kilrea.

“Come, lass. Stay a week with me then. Can you
manage that? There’s a fine cottage on the grounds where we’ll not be
disturbed. I assure you, you’ll not regret a moment of it,” he’d told her. He
could lie with the best of them – especially to women of that ilk. He did not
like women who lied and he detested those who used their bodies for their own personal
gain. An honest prostitute with no alternatives, who earned her bread on her
back, he could appreciate, but a scheming Lady, full of lies and deceit, was
about as useful to him as a thief was. Then there was the fact that this
particular Lady had more than likely had a hand in the murder of his brother.
It was possible William fell from his horse, but not likely, the more he
pondered over it. It was mid-day when William was found, after all. Fin
remembered his brother seeming to be as sober as he ever was that particular
morn at breakfast.

The first thing Fin had done after he sent the
seductress on her way, (after having a bit of a wash in the basin, of course) was
to check the hiding place to relieve his mind that the MacDonnell secret was still
safe. He’d had to reassure himself that William hadn’t been so foolish as to
show the woman the location of the actual goods. He’d promptly moved it to a
new location for assurance. Of course, he’d checked the MacDonnell treasure first
thing after William died too, but the woman calling at Kilrea three years after
his brother’s death had raised his suspicions and set the hairs on the back of
his neck to prickling. In his experience, that was always a sure sign that trouble
was on its way. The last few days he’d spent getting everything in order at
Kilrea, so he could leave for an indefinite period of time. And of course, he
was taking the MacDonnell secret along with him.

The woman would be back and when she realized
he had done such a fine job of lying to her, she and whoever she was partnered
with, he had no doubt someone else was involved for why would she wait three
years to pay him a visit, would search Kilrea if they had the chance. Good luck
to them, for he had taken on a large body of well-armed men to protect his home
while he was away. Then of course, the very capable Mr. Clancy would be in
charge in his absence.

In order to protect the family secret and
himself, Finlay MacDonnell, and that entrusted to him by his father and their
ancestors before them, needed to disappear for a time. At least until he was
certain it was safe to return. He needed to make certain Jamie MacEwen of Argyll
and the MacEwen half of the secret were safe also.

Fin turned to look upon Kilrea Castle one last
time before the carriage passed through the Barbican Gate. The gate looked to
be medieval, yet the Barbican, made of course rubble and red ashlar sandstone, was
built the decade prior at the behest of his father. As Castle Street led right up
to the bridge that crossed the river, and then became the drive to Kilrea, the
large gothic edifice and connecting wall gave the MacDonnells much needed
privacy. For directly across the river, Castle Street cut through the village.
Though Kilrea Castle, was no longer a castle, but a house rebuilt in the
eighteenth century, a castle had stood on the spot since twelve hundred and
forty-seven. Prior to Kilrea, the MacDonnells had lived in the big castle, at
Lower Dunluce. Dunluce was a ruin now, since sixteen hundred and forty-two,
though it stood upon the cliff top like a sentinel looking out over the sea.

As the carriage rolled across the bridge, before
his thoughts settled upon the next stage of his plan, he said a silent prayer
that he would be able to return home soon.

Dunrostan Castle, Knapdale, Argyll, Scotland,
Mid-May 1835

Jamie MacEwen retreated to the study, closed
the door, and opened the letter that had just arrived from Ireland. It was from
Finlay MacDonnell. Correspondance had regularly been exchanged between them
since Fin’s father, the Earl of Dunloy, passed.

Dear
friend,

I fear the time we have long feared would come,
has indeed arrived. I am removing from Kilrea because a former lady friend of
William’s (you know the kind of woman she was, for I’ve oft described William’s
exploits to you) visited and inquired about the secret. Her curiosity was more
than mild. She was willing to seduce me to get her information. I sent her off with
her desires unfulfilled and a promise of a future tryst upon my return from the
‘Continent’. I must surmise that William must have spoken of the Oath and the
reasons behind it at some point in his dealings with this person. No doubt, he
was in his cups, (for he nearly always was) and it would be my guess she coaxed
him to tell of it while he had her on her back! Why she has waited until now to
come to me, I cannot guess.

I wanted to come straight to Dunrostan to see
for myself that you are hale and whole. Alas, though I have been careful and
not noticed a thing out of the ordinary these weeks leading up to and the days
following my suspicious visitor, I must accept that there is the possibility
that I might have been being watched before this person arrived, as well as
after. Therefore, I must abide by the agreement and the rules of the Oath made
by our families. You must take your leave, for if this woman knew of the
MacDonnell secret, chances are William told her about you as well. As our ancestors
before us decreed, we both must take to hiding in our safe places, and we will
meet in three months time at the appointed rendezvous point, on the fifteenth
day of the month.

I pray that you are safe and remain so until we
meet.

Your friend and partner,

Fin

“I can’t believe it. It has happened,” Jamie spoke
aloud to no one. Only once in these five hundred years since the MacDonnells
and MacEwens made their pact had the families had to flee for safety and make a
rendezvous. In 1657, the families had reason to believe they were being
watched, but in the end, it had amounted to nothing. A scare they had called
it. In six months, they had returned to their normal lives.

Jamie numbly reached for the bell pull. Duncan
must be summoned so that preparations could be made to leave Dunrostan at once.
Fin’s letter was dated almost one week ago.

“There will be no argument, Duncan. You know as
well as I, that this is how it must be.”

“If your father were here-”

“He is not,” Jamie interrupted the faithful
butler. “So I must go alone. You must stay and protect our interests here at
Dunrostan while I am gone. I will be back.”

There was so much determination in Jamie’s golden
eyes and such conviction in the words spoken that Duncan was reminded of the
late Earl of Dunrostan. Duncan had sworn to Alexander MacEwen before his death
that he would do his part in this if the occasion should arise, and it had. As
hard as it was, he resigned himself to the fact that he could not serve as Jamie’s
protector during this time.

“You will be back. I will see you soon.” With a
firm nod, the loyal butler stepped back and closed the carriage door. It was
the hardest thing he had done since the old Earl passed and they put him into
the ground. He stood and watched the carriage until it was out of sight, all
the while praying for the safety of Jamie MacEwen’s person, and even that of
the Irishman named Fin MacDonnell.

About Me

The Lords of Avalon series is completed. Lord of the Abbey, Lords of Honor and the companion novella Lord Greyton's Fall From Grace, Lords of Retribution and the series finale, Lords of Atonement, are all on Amazon Kindle. I released Book 1 of the Decker Brothers Trilogy, Decker's Fate, in September 2015 which is a Contemporary Paranormal Romance series, and also available on Amazon. Sinners Take All, Book 1 of The Quest for the Shroud series was released in September 2016.